


Oneshot Collection

by erised_selddir (orphan_account)



Category: Harry Potter - J. K. Rowling
Genre: Drapple, M/M, Other
Language: English
Status: In-Progress
Published: 2017-06-07
Updated: 2017-06-07
Packaged: 2018-11-10 03:04:57
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings
Chapters: 3
Words: 2,013
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/11118591
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/orphan_account/pseuds/erised_selddir
Summary: "Why do you weep, my love? Why do you cry?"A collection of Tomarry or Harrymort oneshots, though other pairings could be: Pansmione, James/Severus, Sirius/James, Drapple (crack), etc.





	1. Chapter 1

**Author's Note:**

> For: Pairing the Character - Drabble Competition (100 - 300 words)
> 
> Title: Touch
> 
> Pairing: Tom x Harry
> 
> Rating: K+
> 
> Notes: An AU where TMR is Death and HP is Life (Death!TMR and Life!HP) This is pretty short.

_ Brown hair twisted around her like a halo – she was something ethereal, beautiful, something that couldn’t be touched by man –  _

_ But Death touched Hermione Granger with his cold hands that he reserved for the purest and ugliest of souls alike. _

_ He had embraced her in his arms and had taken her from him, but he did not laugh at his grief and misfortune.  _

_ “Why do you weep, my love?” He asked at that same moment as he held him close, looking down upon his trembling figure with no small amount of confusion. “Why do you cry? She will be remembered in their hearts, she will be missed by both mortals and creatures alike, she has done so much for this world…”  _

_ But his tears continued to fall, hands clutching onto Death with a desperation that had never been seen before with the countless of lives he had taken before –  _

_ “She will be remembered, she has done so much – but she cannot do anything  _ more _.” _

_ Never once had Life cried until his eyes were red, never once had he sobbed until his throat was sore. _

_ But she, she was an exception, she was like a  _ friend.  _ She was someone who inspired the world with her beauty and mind alike. _

_ But Death still did not understand. _

_ “You are Life – you are giver of souls, giver of spirit, whereas I can do neither. You can bring her back, if that is what you truly desire.” _

_ Now Life was the one who did not quite understand. But at his reassuring nod, he reached down to place a gentle kiss upon her forehead. _

_ Thus came Mother Nature otherwise known as Hermione Granger – and she spent eternity watching over both mortals and creatures with both Life and Death beside her. _


	2. Chapter 2

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Title: The Locket  
> Pairing: Tom/Harry   
> Rating: T  
> With the idea that Neville was the Boy-Who-Lived, James and Lily survived, and Harry found himself in TMR’s grasp as he dabbled with the Dark Arts.
> 
> This one'll end up in another (multichaptered) fic, but it was initially a oneshot so I'm keeping it here.

_ “I want to see every part of you – your mind, your heart, your  _ soul _.” _

Slytherin’s Locket was something beautiful to him.

_ “I will accept all of you, everything that your friends would condemn you for – everything your family would never forgive you for.” _

And the person inside of it –  _ Tom Marvolo Riddle _ was made of such pretty words, however empty they might be. But it didn’t  _ matter _ – it didn’t matter whether his words were lies or the truth, because at that moment, at  _ every  _ moment Harry was with him, he could forget all of the bad times.

He could forget the bodies strewn across the Great Hall in the form of the Dark Mark, sewn into the house flags –  could forget the way the four houses turned against each other instead of supporting the unity Neville preached – 

He could forget the hospital wing and the pale, lifeless bodies Madame Pomfrey was forced to move away from in order to help those severely injured – he could forget the way the children who had just started the term trembled as they found out Hogwarts was not the sanctuary they had believed it to be.

He could forget the role he played in it all, opposite to the Boy-Who-Lived, who both helped in the battle and sent those who needed aid to the Hospital Wing.

In reality, he was a coward – but he could forget all of that.

_ “Thinking about Hogwarts will do nothing for you but cause you pain.”  _ Ghostly transparent arms wrapped around his waist and he could easily identify the intoxicating smell of the  _ Dark Arts _ that mingled in the air. He could imagine the way warm breath would brush against his cheek if Tom were real, could imagine the warmth that would seep through his shirt –  but Tom wasn’t real despite his wishes.

“...I know.” He murmured, wanting nothing more than to lean back and  _ feel _ him instead of the form that was behind him now. “I know.”

_ “Then why do you continue to reminisce?” _

He didn’t answer, blurting out the question that had plagued his thoughts for quite some time after the battle. _  “ _ How was it so  _ easy _ for you to forget the ones you killed, Tom?”

There was silence.

He didn’t expect an answer right away – though he wouldn’t have been surprised if he did respond immediately. Tom was different than the rest of them, different than his friends, different than his parents.

He was in a locket, he was isolated, he knew more about pain than any of them.

He knew hate, he knew betrayal, but love… Harry wasn’t entirely sure that Tom knew what it felt like. 

And it was strange, to love something – no, to have feelings for a  _ person _ who thought love was a foreign concept.

Parental love... Tom was strangely close-lipped on that issue, so Harry could assume that he had gotten nothing of the sort.

Romantic love… If Tom didn’t know the concept of a family’s love, then why would he know anything else? He didn’t  _ do _ friends, something Harry had found out about him early on when they had just met. Even when Tom presented him with the fact that he considered  _ Harry  _ someone dear to him, they were simply pretty words.

Nothing more, nothing less.

Harry just had to be okay with that, and he  _ was _ – or so he told himself. In truth, he wanted to be the one to teach him of love – but how could he do so when Tom never knew what it felt like? How could he explain what love felt like when it differed from person to person?

How could he explain love to someone like _ Tom _ ?

He couldn’t – he  _ wouldn’t _ . He was too fearful, too afraid to bring up the subject when that would delve into his feelings for the enigma that was Tom Marvolo Riddle. And if he wanted to explain friendship, to explain  _ love _ when all Tom knew was hate and anger and everything in between…

_ “...I did not care for them.”  _ The soft admittance sent chills through him.  _ “I did not care for them like I do you, I did not care about their petty little lives and all of the things they wanted to accomplish. They were such disgusting creatures – they were greedy, seeking for more than they can have and committing the most notorious crimes to obtain their desires.” _

Hearing the words made him feel no better about what happened that night – hearing Tom speak made him realize that there was no hope for getting him to feel remorse, to feel regret, to feel – 

_ “But you – you are different. You are… you are  _ special _ , Harry. If you existed during my time at Hogwarts, I do not believe I would have killed you.” _

But it was a possibility.

It was a possibility and Tom was trying to make him feel better about the chance that he could have disposed him as easily as he had done the others – and Tom would not have regretted it, would he?

He could have been killed like Myrtle, the Basilisk taking his life mercifully.

He could have been killed like Tom’s father, his grandparents, the old woman who he briefly mentioned – he could have been killed with a simple  _ Avada Kedavra _ .

But if he was so  _ important _ to Tom, even back then, would Tom really go through quick means?

If he was special to Tom, then his  _ death _ would be special.

His throat could have been slit with a simple spell from Tom’s wand, his organs could have decorated the floor, his blood could have painted the walls with a deep red that would rival Gryffindor’s.

His heart could have been taken out, replaced with the most beautiful of flowers – maroon and gold, or perhaps emerald and silver to represent who he was supposed to be, who he truly was. Who he represented, what he abided by, who he wanted to  _ belong  _ to.

But it didn’t necessarily matter how Tom Riddle would have gotten rid of him so long as it was elegant, refined, fit for someone like Harry – someone who he  _ cared  _ about.

And it didn’t matter if Tom Riddle would have killed him back when he was alive, back when he had a body to call his own instead of a soul that had no room for meaningless emotions – 

What mattered was now.

What mattered was the present.

“But will you kill me now, Tom?” 

He wasn’t aware he had voiced the words until everything stilled downstairs – Sirius’ mother’s screaming, the laughing from the Weasley twins and the shouts from Ginny and Ron – 

The faint, indignant voice that belonged to Hermione, the way Neville tried to calm them down – 

It all went quiet, it all disappeared, leaving Harry to deal with the sudden weight of his words and the silence they left behind.

But despite the way that the question was one he could end up regretting, he found he didn’t care all too much.

“Would you… would you still kill me if I told you I wanted to find a way to give you a body of your own?”

The darkness of Regulus’ room was oddly comforting in this moment, in this moment where he decided to ask, to let go of his anxiety and get some relief – 

For he found that he did not  _ care _ if it was hopeless to look forward to the day that Tom could be lowered to the same tier as he was with both human remorse and love intermingled in his array of emotions. He did not  _ care _ if all he had to look forward to was disappointment. He did not  _ care  _ if it was seemingly impossible for Tom to feel anything other than negativity.

“I will do it for you, I will do  _ anything _ for you, Tom.”

Harry would make it happen, he would make him understand, he would make him  _ feel _ .

Chilled hands reached up – Tom was trembling the tiniest bit – traced around his eyes, his nose, his  _ lips  _ before – 

Nothing.

Tom did not respond.

Harry did not expect him to.


	3. Chapter 3

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> (These first three oneshots are all a year old - just uploading them now.)
> 
> Draco loves his green apple.

"Who have you been sneaking out to see so late at night, Draco?"

His gaze shifted from the book he had been glancing at over to the Pansy. "Have you been spending too much time with the  _ weasel _ ? Spewing out utter nonsense and pestering others.. are you turning into a Gryffindor?"

Draco was glad he didn’t always have to deal with the Slytherins that lacked subtlety, but Merlin, Pansy was on another level entirely.

“...Flint told me to warn you – the teachers are patrolling more often for some reason, and he didn’t want Slytherin to lose any points.”

He had to refrain from rolling his eyes, turning his attention back to his book that was worth far more attention than Pansy. She lied horribly, he could tell. His father made sure to ingrain social skills into him, but that didn’t mean he had to like being with any of them. Crabbe and Goyle were brainless idiots, and Pansy was downright annoying with the way she clung to him like he was hers.

She would never understand the way he felt.

Because if he belonged to anyone, then he would be owned by the  _ apple _ .

“… are you listening… me …”

It was a good thing he was able to present a perfectly polite mask, as his pulse was racing at the thought of brushing his lips against green skin…

“Draco!” He got a face full of brown hair and his lips twitched as her arms wrapped around his neck. Oh, how he wished he could hold the apple at this moment and press kisses to it, but apple would never be able to proclaim its undying love for him like he could to it.

And it would never respond to his confessions, but that was alright. 

He would love to hear apple speak, but he could deal with the silence. Apple was always there for him when he needed it. That was all that mattered.

Anyone else could and would turn their backs on him if he did something that they didn’t like, but apple wouldn’t do that. Apple would be there, apple would listen.

Apple would always be waiting for him, would always shine just for him, and he adored it. 


End file.
